He's right. I have nothing. No one. Nowhere to go. I'm completely at his mercy. And it makes me feel sick to be so dependent on anyone, especially him.
"I hate you," I say again, but this time it comes out as a whisper.
"I know." He moves toward the master bedroom, putting distance between us. "Eat something else. Then go back to bed. We'll talk more in the morning."
"I don't want to talk to you."
"Too bad." He glances back at me. "We're going to talk anyway. About the baby and what happens next, and how we're going to make this work."
"There is no 'we.'"
"There is now. Get used to it."
I stand there in the kitchen as he walks into his bedroom and shuts the door, shaking with rage and fear. He's not going to let me go. He's made that clear. And I don't have the resources to fight him.
I'm trapped. Completely and utterly trapped.
And unlike in that cell, this time no one is coming to rescue me.
18
KAZIMIR
I’m risking everything.
I knew that from the moment I started this. And it lingers in my mind the next morning as I knock on her door, waiting for her to acknowledge I’m there. When she says nothing from the other side, I speak anyway.
"We need to talk.”
There’s another long silence, and then I finally hear her voice. “About what, Kazimir? What else is there to talk about?”
I let out a sigh. “You know what we need to discuss. You’re staying here, so we need to talk about how this goes.”
She snatches the door open after making me wait a few more minutes. “Why? Because you’re worried I’ll try to escape? Or Ilya will find out I’m here?”
“You’re not escaping. My friend Artem will make sure of that.”
“Is that the guy who was here last night while you were out grocery shopping?”
“It is.” I lean against the doorjamb. “He’s loyal to me. He’ll make sure you’re safe when I can’t be here, and he’ll make sure youstaysafe.”
“So I have a guard, too. Are you still sure I’m not a prisoner?”
I can feel the pressure of exhaustion at the back of my head, threatening a headache. “If Ilya finds you here, he’ll kill me for lying to him, most likely. If he were to show up, you need to make yourself scarce. Hide somewhere. Make sure not to leave things out that might give it away. He’s never come to my apartment before, but?—”
If he has some reason to suspect me,I start to say—and don’t. I don’t want her to be afraid, just aware of what’s going on.
“He’d kill you for lying to him. Do you hear yourself?” She shakes her head. “And you want me to stay with you? In this world? Even if the baby is yours?—”
“Stop saying that.” My jaw tightens. “It doesn’t matter to me. From here on out, you and the baby are mine. End of story.”
She goes quiet for a moment. “How long?” she asks finally. "How long do I have to stay hidden? Weeks? Months?" Her hand moves to her stomach, just for a second. "Years?"
I don’t have an answer for that, and I think she knows it. There’s no statute of limitations on how pissed Ilya will be if he finds out what really happened in Russia—and that I’ve not only lied to him about all of it, but fucked his ex-fiancée, kept her in my apartment without telling him, threatened her father and thus inadvertently pulled him back into Svetlana’s problems, and possibly gotten her pregnant.
I’ll be lucky if he kills me without castrating me first.
“I don’t know,” I say finally. “Until I can figure out where we go from here. And in order to do that, Svetlana, I need to not be preoccupied every fucking minute with arguing with you. Especially not thesameargument over and over.”
